Page 122 of Pack Plus One

“Noted,” Leah squeaks as Caleb follows her into the elevator, the rest of us piling in behind them.

“Coconut water!” Mrs. Finley calls as the doors begin to close. “Excellent for replacing electrolytes after?—”

The doors mercifully cut off the remainder of her advice.

For a moment, we all stand in stunned silence, the elevator’s soft hum the only sound as we ascend.

Then Jude lets out a whoop of laughter. “Mrs. Finley is my new hero! ‘Stamina muffins’—I’m putting that on the brewery’s brunch menu.”

“You will do no such thing,” Mason mutters, though I catch the twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

Leah drops her forehead against my chest with a groan. “Kill me now.”

“Not after all the effort we just put into getting you back,” I say lightly, my free arm wrapping around her shoulders in a comforting squeeze.

The elevator stops at the third floor, and we file out, Leah leading the way to her apartment. The hallway feels narrower with all five of us crowded into it, our combined scents creating apotent mixture that has a passing beta neighbor quickening her steps with widened eyes.

Leah fumbles with her keys, the slight tremor in her fingers betraying her nervousness despite the brave front she’s putting on. Mason gently takes them from her hand, locating the correct key and unlocking the door in one smooth motion.

“Show-off,” Jude mutters.

Leah’s studio apartment smells like the fading traces of our combined scents from our previous visit. The familiarity of our scents in her space settles something restless in my chest that I hadn’t even realized was there.

“So,” Jude says, breaking the awkward silence as we all hover uncertainly just inside the doorway. “Dinner? I’m thinking takeout, because I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving after all that emotional reconciliation. Maybe Thai? Or that Indian place on 4th that does the?—”

Leah hands me the flowers, turns, and kisses him.

It’s not gentle. It’s all a crushing of lips and desperation, Jude’s surprised grunt muffled against her mouth as she backs him against the wall. My fingers tighten around the flower stems, the cellophane wrapper crinkling loudly in the suddenly charged atmosphere.

Jude recovers from his shock quickly, his hands finding Leah’s waist as he returns the kiss with equal fervor. The scent of aroused alpha and omega fills the small apartment like a flash flood, drowning out everything else.

Caleb’s growl vibrates through the room, deep and possessive. His eyes flash with something dangerous, but I recognize the heat in them—not anger, but fierce desire.

Leah pulls back from Jude just enough to smirk at Caleb over Jude’s shoulder, her lips swollen and eyes bright with challenge. “Problem?” she asks, voice husky.

Mason exhales loudly through his nose, his usual calm demeanor cracking slightly at the edges. “Leah,” he says, his voice holding a warning—though whether it’s for her or for himself, I’m not entirely sure.

She releases Jude, who looks dazed and delighted, and turns to face the rest of us. The air between us practically crackles with tension as she takes a deliberate step toward Mason.

“I thought about you,” she says, her voice low and intimate. “All of you. While I was gone.”

Mason swallows visibly. “Did you?”

She nods, reaching out to trace a finger down the center of his chest. “I thought about how you always know exactly what I need before I ask for it.” Her finger stops at his waistband. “How your hands feel when you?—”

“Leah,” I interject, my voice tighter than I intended. “Perhaps we should discuss?—”

“I don’t want to discuss anything.” She cuts me off, turning to face me with an expression that knocks the breath from my lungs. “I’ve done enough thinking, enough talking, enough running. Haven’t you?”

The question hangs between us, heavy with implication. The sunflowers are still clutched in my hand, their brightness almost absurd in the tension-filled room.

“What do you want?” Caleb asks, his voice rough with restraint. “I mean…What do you need right now?”

Leah’s gaze shifts to him, her pupils dilating as she takes in his powerful frame, the tension visible in every line of his body. “I want to stop overthinking everything,” she says. “I want to stop being afraid of what I feel. I want—” She takes a deep breath. “I want all of you.”

The apartment goes so quiet I can hear the faint ticking of the clock on her wall, the distant hum of traffic outside,the collective intake of breath from four males who have been balanced on a knife’s edge of wanting and restraint.

“Right now? Are you sure?” Mason asks, ever the level-headed one.

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